


Drying Paint

by downpourcity



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, s4 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpourcity/pseuds/downpourcity
Summary: All it takes is expression.Inspired by: TheWorstStoryteller, who is hardly the worst.
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Drying Paint

Orange paint, blue paint, hues of purple and yellows splashed upon a wall as if it was the biggest canvas in the world. All the furniture in the room was pulled back as the form mistress threw more paint at her wall in attempts to express her frustrations of the world in vivid coloration. After what felt like an eternity of sobbing, she sat in a chair with her back to the wall her hair falling from its bun, her eyes wet, her lips shaking. She dropped the brush to the floor with a clatter that could drop the world with it.

Hecate let out silent whines as her body deflated into the seat and her cheeks grew red, red like the strokes on the wall, red like the heart she had that was broken, and red like the frustration from everything lurking in the darkest corners of her mind. She whimpered softly and stared at a fixed point on the stone floor with hope that she could merely fall into the stone and assimilate into the crevices and slip away into eternity without another whisper. A scream gathered in the depths of her stomach and worked its way up until it was heard so loudly that her own ears rang.

The break in her heart was enough to send her to her knees out of the chair and onto the floor as if sacrificing herself to some unknown entity. She stared up at the ceiling with her arms at her sides and her knees in the paint on the floor.

Oh, how she wished it could have gone her way. Oh, how she wished she could be selfish for one moment to give herself a breath. Oh, how she could feel the tension building in her head and the pounding numbing her insides out as it always had time and time again.

Orange like dying sunsets, blue like the sky, purple when it meant the most, yellow like the flowers they collected, pink- pink… _for Pippa_.

She hated herself more than anyone else in the entire world. She hated her apparent heroism and selflessness and the feeling of emptiness that followed her like a lost dog. She hated that she couldn’t always formulate her words correctly or be what everyone wanted her to be. She hated the moment she sent Indigo away and the moment she was asked why she did it. She hated the look of uncertainty in Ada’s eyes and the bitterness that befell her after the hug she was given by Azura. What she hated the most was that everyone lied to her, everyone walked on eggshells around her, everyone was afraid.

On some days this fear, this agony others felt over her was rewarding. On other days it damaged her very soul until she could hardly sleep at night. Sometimes she questioned if this intimidation was even her reality or if it was fashioned as a protection.

Hecate sat upright and put her hands on either side of her head to try and block out the internal ring that now reminded her of her vocal expression. She shifted upward and stared blankly at the floor where she had been kneeling and at the paint everywhere and realized just what she had done. She felt her knees wobble and her eyes sting and all she could do was stand there with her hands on her ears and her eyes wide open. Nobody would comfort her. Nobody would hold her and tell her all would be well. Nobody would come to her side as she did for all others.

“Oh Hecate…” Came a voice familiar to her that cut the ringing in half, “Darling...” It came again as if it was real.

The tall witch closed her eyes and kept her hands firmly on her ears as she almost began to believe that this was all in her head. “This… this is cruel.” She whispered out loud in a hollow voice as she felt hands take her own hands away from her ears and grab her. Her body let go on her as she fell into the other’s arms. Everything ached so thoroughly she thought she was going to die. She felt warm breath on her neck and comforting arms around her body. This was it, wasn’t it?

“Hiccup. Open your eyes.” The other’s voice thoroughly shocked her as she opened her eyes to find Pippa’s head on her shoulder.

The two faced the painting on the wall without another word.

Sometimes watching paint dry could be all that was necessary.


End file.
